


A Change Of Season

by basketcasewrites



Series: Fictober 2018 [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Demon Wade Wilson, Fluff, Halloween, M/M, Vampire Peter Parker, cute boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 11:23:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16158011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basketcasewrites/pseuds/basketcasewrites
Summary: Wade can't help how October makes him feel— Fall? Halloween? Every single thing fills him with joy.Though Peter can't agree it makes him feel much the same.(prompt 1 from myfictober prompts list: Autumn/Fall)





	A Change Of Season

_"_ _'_ _Tis_ _the season to be spooky,"_ Wade sang, loudly and out of tune. His voice carrying through his apartment without difficulty. " _Fa_ _la_ _la_ _la_ _lah_ —"

The ladder, borrowed from Cable and almost as old as him, wobbled from the pressure of his weight. Swearing under his breath, Wade balanced himself and reached to secure the corner of the shiny black banner to the wall.

 _Get spooky!_ It read in dark orange print, framed by a splattering of cartoonish jack-o-lanterns.

Rungs digging into the bottoms of his bare feet, Wade hopped from the ladder. His living room floor, covered in a layer of thick carpet, muffled his steps as he walked to the middle its center.

Hands on his hips, he cast a contemplative look around the room.

"Good job, Wilson," he offered himself a moment of praise, drew his mouth into a proud frown, the kind that could just as easily be a smile. "Real good job."

A soft _beep beep beep,_ long and drawn out in warning, found its way from the kitchen. Content to ignore the timer, which always ended up going off two minutes too early, Wade eyed the living room before he made the short walk down the short passageway.

Halloween was probably his favourite time of the year, if he really gave it a thought. The colours of Fall, the strange festivity of the time, how it became a months long event and consumed everything. He loved it all.

"Fuck—" Wade hissed, the baking tray burning his palms through the thin dishcloth. Dropping it to the  counter, between the clutter and collection of recipe books, a sharp clatter rang out loudly and drowned out the music wafting from the speakers.

 _The Nightmare Before Christmas._ The soundtrack, a gift from a friend.

Footsteps sounded from outside, down the pebbled walkway. The sound of the doorbell. "Wade?" A familiar voice shouted. "Wade? You're home, right?"

He couldn't chase away the smile from his face. Hearing Peter's voice, even through a thick oak door, always managed to weaken him.  
Ironic, that Peter seemed to carry sunlight everywhere he went.

"My love," Wade threw the door open and greeted, voice excited. Loud enough to startle the group of kids playing on his lawn, in a large pile of leaves.

"My greatest annoyance," Peter replied, the statement as fond as the gentle eye roll that followed.

Hands stuffed in the pockets of an oversized brown jacket, his beanie a  golden brown, Peter rocked forward on the balls of his feet.

"You're looking awfully..." Wade drifted off, taking in the deep orange of Peter's sweater that matched the rich browns, "Autumnal today."

"Wade." Peter ignored him. The vein in Peter's neck twitched as he followed, terrifying and purple through his paper-thin pale skin. "Invite me in."

Almost pleading, an anxious light behind his dark brown eyes. He shortened the space between him and Wade, stood just at the threshold between the minute coverings of the patio and the house's entrance.

"I thought you had manners."

Peter inched away from the noon sunlight, finding its way through slats of smooth wood. "Invite me in, please," he said with a plastered on smile, sickeningly saccharine, and a flash of his lashes. He flashed a bar of chocolate. "I'll make it worth your while."

Wade let out a small laugh. "Come on in."

Peter slipped past him. Shoes were toed off and left beside the door, jacket left to hang. Immediately, he made himself at home.

"So you're baking and you didn't ask me over?" Peter asked, breathing in the scents of freshly baked cookies. "I'll admit, I'm offended."

Wade made to draw the curtains. Banished the room to a deep darkness, lit only and intimately by the lamps Peter flitted around the room to switch on.

"I didn't want too many distractions."

"So, what?" Peter asked with a wicked grin and a sharp shrug, left the question hanging.

"Yes. You're a distraction," Wade agreed. "But you're my favourite distraction."

With a knuckle, Peter pushed his glasses up the slim bridge of his nose. The side of his finger caught against the tip of a protruding fang.  
Wade recognized the shadows under his eyes, the hunger, and knew the fangs wouldn't slide back even if Peter tried.

"Your favourite distraction could do with something to eat," Peter redirected. He tapped a slow rhythm at the base of Wade's neck. "Or drink."

Wade bared his neck and swallowed, just to see Peter's reaction. If he could offer his blood to Peter, without a doubt, he would.  
He ignored the heat in the other man's eyes— the burning, unbidden want— and turned to lead him from the front of the house, to the kitchen.

Light on his feet, almost soundless, Peter followed. He eyed the Halloween themed interior, gave a low whistle at the newly decorated rooms.

"Are we celebrating something?" Peter asked. Wade could almost hear the raised eyebrow, the pointed frown. "I mean... Are you throwing some kind of party?"

Peter pulled himself to settle on the counter. He made a short, sharp sound; one Wade could only describe as tutting.

Shaking his head, a keen chuckle dying on his lips, bent to look in the half-empty freezer.

He wasn't much of a meat lover himself. Most of what he stocked was kept for Peter— for breakfast on the nights he spent over, or for rare occasions like this one, when he somehow found himself trapped in the sun.

"You're always such a downer about Halloween, I can't believe it," he muttered. "Red meat... Red meat... Steak or these beef patty things?"

"Anything," Peter said, the wave of his hand a noncommittal gesture. "I just don't get it. A demon actually going out of their way to celebrate Halloween?" There again: the cock of his head, the raising of an eyebrow. "Wade, you have to realize why it's at least a _teensy_ bit ridiculous."

"Here I was thinking Halloween was the one day a demon should celebrate." He nodded at the steak as he put it on the grill. "Two minutes."

"I get it, I do. It's _fun_. You get to dress up in weird costumes and accept candy from strangers—"

"I'm really not seeing any negatives here, Pete." He interjected Peter's next sentence with a shake of his head. "'It's silly and a completely humanized caricature diverted from its roots.' I know. 'It is a mockery!'" Wade parroted. "I know, Pete."

"Okay." Peter fiddled with the hem of his sweater. Sighed. "You really did do a good job with the decorations. It's very... Nice."

"What I don't get," Wade voiced.

Peter accepted the steak, piping hot and extremely rare, and dipped his head in acknowledgement. Silently urged Wade to continue.

His side to the counter, Wade leaned. Watched as Peter practically inhaled bite after bite. He was ravenous; it was fascinating.

"What I don't get," Wade began again, "Is why _you_ don't like Halloween. Out of every day of the year, _this_ is your day. I've seen actual, extravagant _shrines_ to Vampires."

"You built two of those yourself."

"How else was I supposed to get your attention?"

"I _gave_ you my number," Peter pointed out. "I gave you my number after knowing you for fifteen minutes. I wasn't exactly playing hard to get."

Wade was the one to roll his eyes. "My _point_ is— Your kind is at the forefront of Halloween. People basically worship Vampires the entire year, and it's so much more the closer it gets to October."

"Yeah, well, maybe I don't appreciate dozens of people dressing up as Vampires and pretending to suck each other dry."

Despite himself, Wade sniggered.

"You know what I mean. It's not like I can just take off my cape and throw away my fangs and _voila!_ not a Vamp anymore," Peter said. He paused to lick at a stray dot of blood sitting on his chin. "It doesn't seem right that people can just pretend for a night, and be all fun and games about it, when I almost burned today because even though there's _freedom_ and there's _laws_ shop owners are still allowed to refuse shelter to _Night Creatures_."

He spat each word with a venom. In spite of his boiling fury, or because of it— Wade couldn't tell which— a sheen of tears in Peter's eyes shone under the kitchen's fluorescent lighting.

"You always have a speech prepared," Wade said, and God, the need to protect Peter burned him something fierce, "But I don't think you've ever told me anything like that before."

An exhale of an exhausted, shaky laugh. "It's the hunger... And the general tiredness. But mostly the hunger."

A chaste kiss placed to Peter's cheek, Wade took the empty plate from Peter's firm, unyielding, clasp.  
He let it clatter into the sink, overflowing with the collection of dishes he had used to bake.

Cleaning up, he scowled. That was a problem for a later date.

"Look." Wade wiped his hands off on the backs of his pants. "I can't offer much, but I've got fresh cookies and a collection of Vampire movies— with _actual_ Vampire actors."

"That's my collection, Wade," Peter narrowed his eyes and said. "I remember you saying something about returning it... about two months ago."

"I preferred you when you were almost crying," Wade teased.

Peter's laugh wasn't gentle, it's rough edges catching in his throat; imperfect, it wrinkled the sides of Peter's unshaven face and scrunched up his crooked nose. He was beautiful.

Pumpkins patterned over a pale blue background, his socks matched Wade's house.  
Walking behind him to the living room, Wade stared at them. At the way Peter seemed to float everywhere, his feet barely touching the floor.

Not too long later, certainly not long enough for the sky to change from mid-afternoon to evening, Wade dragged a thick downy blanket from his bedroom. Pulled it around them.  
In their cocoon of warmth, they cuddled close together in one corner of the spacious couch.

When Wade breathed in, his nose filled with the smell of Peter's shampoo— a subtle blend of citrus.  
When he moved, Peter's curls tickled his neck.

"Which one first? Wade asked, idly scrolling through the list of movies. Half of them were pirate copies, Wade knew.

" _All Hallows_ ," Peter said, more an order than a gentle suggestion. "It's not as popular as the other's, but it's got Marlon Brando— a Vampiric pioneer. And. It's somewhat of a cinematic masterpiece."

Wade nodded. And, just because he could, he tightened his hold on Peter, pulling the younger man closer to him. He imagined every inch of space between them disappearing. Them becoming like one of those monsters he had seen kids dressed up as— two heads, one body, in perfect harmony.

Wade dipped his head to settle a kiss to the curve of Peter's forehead.

Black and white opening credits began to play on screen. Quietly, as if not to disturb whatever had enveloped them, Peter said, " _This_ part of Halloween, Wade? It's not so bad."

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see how I procrastinate, shoot me some asks or just hang out, you can find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/shuriidyke)


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